


Worry

by WigglyBlue



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: But Sarmenti has a nightmare and Barristan attempts to comfort him, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but not a lot, well a little bit of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WigglyBlue/pseuds/WigglyBlue
Summary: The past has a way to linger with you, stay with you. And it always comes back to haunt you.
Relationships: Jester & Man-at-Arms (Darkest Dungeon)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Worry

It had taken quite some convincing for the Man at arms to get Sarmenti to agree to rest. He had vehemently refused at first, over and over insisting that he could stand watch. That he had done more with less sleep in his past. But eventually, Barristan with some light bribery had gotten the jester to promise to rest. To close his eyes, and sleep for as long as his body would let him. But all that work to get the fool to rest now seemed to almost be for naught.

The young man had woken with quite the violent start while the soldier had been keeping watch. The jester's hand had flown right to his hip when he had suddenly awoken, grabbing the knife he always kept there, nearly lashing out at empty air before Sarmenti realized, or perhaps remembered where he was. A shuddering and shaking breath left the fool's throat, harshly pressing the blade against his brow, trembling something fierce. Barristan, now that he thought about it he had rarely seen the young man sleep. The jester was often found sleeping in some unconventional place, like the tree he had tied himself too, the roof of a building, the empty top shelf of the hamlet's only library, nestled in the hay of the stable's loft. And when he was asked why he was sleeping there the most he would give in a hungover daze was that he had felt safe there. Then the rare times he slept in the barracks Sarmenti never seemed to stay for long, even when he was sober, waking and then leaving in the middle of the night to only be found playing sad songs during the wee hours of the morn in the rafters of the Abby.

And while Barristan knew nearly nothing of Sarmenti's past, he could recognize what a man waking up from a nightmare looked like, having woken up in a cold sweat from his fair share. Quietly standing up so he wouldn't wake the others, the old soldier went over to the jester, crouching down next to the young man he had taken in as his son. He rests a hand gently on the fool's own, starting to speak.  
"Sarme-"

Sarmenti yanked away as soon as he was touched, his breath catching so hard in his throat the fool nearly had a coughing fit, throwing his arm in front of his face defensively. It seemed to take Sarmenti a few seconds to realize that it was only the man he had started to call his father. Forcing his breath to steady, he spoke in an almost shockingly weak voice.  
"I don't like being touched... Most of all when I'm not expecting it..." His words were shaky, almost hesitant. Guilty.  
That he couldn't stand to be touched by the other person that filled the gap of father he had never had in his life.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya…" Barristan gently apologized, sitting down next to Sarmenti. "But I saw you woke with quite the start, lad, and I was thinking maybe you could use some company."  
"I'm fine." The jester quickly told, it is almost second nature to him at this point.  
"You don't seem fine son," Barristan gently commented. " You seem quite shaken really. You can tell me about it if you so wish."  
"I don't want to worry you," Sarmenti told the older man, barely letting him finish, pulling his legs to his chest and hugging them tightly. If telling the aging soldier he was fine was second nature, then not wanting to worry him was first nature.  
"Son, it worries me more when you _don't_ tell me things then when you _do_." Barristan told the jester gently, trying to look him in the eye, though the fool always avoided his gaze.  
The fool had always seemed so tried, even with his mask constantly hiding away his face. In the way he spoke, the way he acted. Never walking with a straight back, always laughing at the cruelty of the world as it beat him down.  
"I'm not going to tell you. You’re better off not knowing, truly." The jester told, eyes still refusing to meet the Man at Arm's.  
"Sarmenti you're being ridiculous. Now please just tell me-"  
" _Please_." Sarmenti's voice was tired, sounding like he was on the edge of tears. "I worried my mother so much as a little boy… She would find me in a tree in the courtly garden and tell me to come down with tears in her voice. Tell me that I had nearly worried her to death… _Please_ don't make me tell you. Don't make me worry you, burden you. Let me just be a good son for once in my life, _please_..."  
Barristan hesitated. He wanted the boy to open up to him but at the same time, he didn’t want to force the jester to tell him something. The older man struggled to find the right words at first, rubbing a hand against his mouth as his thoughts fell into order.

“If you really don’t want to tell me, then I shan’t force you.” Barristan finally replied, a soft sigh in his voice.  
A quiet chuckle graced his hearing, the soldier almost able to feel the fool's tired smile, despite his mask.  
“Thank you...I appreciate it greatly.” Sarmenti mumbled, chuckling quietly.  
The jester stood somewhat shakily, though he easily steadied himself, bells jingling lightly as he moved.  
“Now if you don’t mind me, I’ll excuse myself and finally eat my meal.” He told the Man at Arms, the jester throwing his lute onto his back, and grabbing the bag holding his portion of the rations.  
Barristan nearly asked where the boy was going to go, but that question was answered before he had the chance to ask. The boy easily pulled himself up a nearby tree, climbing it with surprising ease. It didn't take long for Sarmenti to reach the top of the tall tree, resting on the highest branch that could still support his weight. The older man had to crane his neck back to even attempt to spot the jester. There was the jingle of bells could be heard faintly as Barristan could only assume Sarmenti pulled off his hat so that he could eat. He never did let anyone besides that plague doctor see his face now that the Man at Arms thought about it.

Letting out a long sigh Barristan returned to where he had been keeping watch, staring out into the shadows. The boy carried a heavy weight with him. And Barristan couldn't help, but worry.


End file.
